Page 9 of Claimed by the Obsessed Laird (Highland Bride Hunt #1)

Chapter Seven

Sated with lunch, Isla wandered from the Great Hall to explore a little more of the rest of the Keep. She had to admit, while it was difficult for her to see this place as much more than a prison, it was pleasant enough to look at.

In the light of day, it seemed to have far fewer of the dark shadows that had plagued it when she had first arrived.

The chapel, which she spent a few minutes in, was almost peaceful now that it was not the location of her wedding.

She sat for a moment in one of the pews, her hands clasped in her lap, grateful for a moment of peace among all the madness and chaos that had swarmed around her since she’d arrived.

It was not in her nature to cause such trouble.

Though Catriona and her father might have argued that it was, she never intended to make life harder for people, but she just lived as she saw fit.

Sometimes, it seemed, she came up against the expectations people had for her, and no matter how much she tried to argue for the contrary, she felt like little more than a problem to the people around her.

Something her dear husband would soon find out.

Though it was entirely ungodly, she couldn’t help but smile to herself when she remembered how he had eaten his lunch without a glance in her direction, as though he could barely bring himself to look at her.

Such had been the level of frustration that she had caused him.

She thought of nudging him a little further, seeing what other reactions she could get from him, but she must save her energy. And besides, there was more of this place to discover yet.

Which was how she found herself wandering towards the stables, where she could smell the familiar scent of hay in the air. She was sure such a place was not fit for a lady, but she had done little today that would have matched with the role that had been assigned to her. So why stop there?

As she stepped inside, she reached up to run her hand down the nose of one of the chestnut mares whose head hung over an uneven wooden board.

She had always liked horses, though she had never been much good at riding them.

Her father had never bothered to teach her and her sister in any great detail.

She had often longed to learn, imagining the freedom of feeling the wind tearing through her hair as she was carried away to wherever she wanted.

Perhaps, in retrospect, it was for that very reason that her father had decided not to teach her, wanting to make certain she would not take off into the distance without a word of warning given the chance.

“I didnae expect to see ye here, my Lady.”

She glanced up, surprised to see Archie stepping out from behind another one of the small spaces where the horses were stored.

She offered him a smile, reminding herself that she would do well to cultivate an ally at a time like this.

For all that she didn’t know anyone here, a friend in the family would surely only be a good thing in the long term, even if it seemed rather impossible for the moment.

“I like horses,” she replied, suddenly feeling appallingly childish.

He leaned against the wall, a slightly roguish smile on his face, the one that she had grown used to seeing him with.

“Do ye ken how to ride?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“No. Not really, anyway,” she replied. “I never learned. My father?—”

“Well, it wouldnae do for a lady to have such a gap in her knowledge,” he remarked. “I could teach ye, if ye like.”

She raised her eyebrows. For some reason, being taught to ride seemed like a rather intimate prospect to her, though she could not for the life of her think why.

Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her, as though he was rather enjoying having her to himself, whether or not he would say it out loud.

“I dinnae ken if many people would think it right for a lady to ride…”

“Side-saddle, of course,” he added, his grin spreading a little wider. “I wouldnae want to cast aspersions on yer righteousness, after all.”

She almost laughed at the thought. If she had not done good on proving herself a nuisance, as Camron had called her, then she was sure she would have wasted the day. The thought of Camron and how sharp he had been with her only stirred her rebelliousness, and she shrugged.

“I dinnae see why not,” she replied. “This place is so far from anything, I suppose it would make sense for me to learn to ride somewhen.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he replied, ducking his head down in agreement as he went to pull open one of the stable doors.

Grasping at the reins, he led the creature out into the courtyard, and she followed, glancing around to see if they were being watched.

She hoped they were. She wanted every bit of this to get back to Camron.

If he found out that she had been learning to ride, she was sure he would find some way to twist it against her; convince himself that she was nothing more than a problem he should have been doing his best to divest himself off.

Tossing a worn-down leather saddle over the horse’s reddish-brown back, Archie made his way around the steed to join Isla.

“It’s rather… tall, isn’t it?” she remarked, her voice quivering slightly.

She wasn’t sure she was cut out for this, after all.

The thought of sitting at a dainty side-saddle on this creature seemed a prime way to be tossed to the ground without a second thought.

She could see herself face-down in the mud all too easily, especially with how clumsy and uncoordinated she could get.

“It’s no’ as bad once you get in the saddle,” Archie replied. “Here, allow me to help.”

And, before she could say another word, he grasped her by the waist and lifted her from the ground.

She let out a cry of shock but caught hold of the reins just in time, and Archie lowered her into the seat.

And, just as it had the night before when he had asked her to dance, his hand lingered a moment longer than it had to on that intimate part of her.

She glanced down at him to find his eyes, knowing and half-lidded, looking back up at her. She recoiled slightly, about to remark on it, when another voice cut in to take on the matter for her.

“And what in God’s name are the two of ye doing out here?”

Camron had come storming out of the Keep, and, if she had seen him angry before, he was furious now.

“I’m helping yer bride learn how to ride,” Archie replied, and the obvious innuendo in his tone made Isla frown.

She was all for banter and fun—there was no doubt about that—but the way Archie was speaking about her, it seemed as though he was hinting at something else entirely.

“See, I’ll help her down if it’s such a problem,” he replied, and he lifted her from the seat and planted her back on the ground.

Camron stormed over to them, and Archie swiftly withdrew his hands as he sensed the oncoming storm from his cousin’s rage.

“Ye get yer hands off what’s mine!” he snarled, pressing his face close to Archie.

Isla widened her eyes, irritation flashing through her.

“What’s yers?” she protested, as Archie slipped away, lowering his gaze to the ground as though to avoid any more trouble.

“Ye’re my wife, are ye not?” he growled as he took the reins and led the horse back into the stable.

She followed close behind, not willing to let such a thing slide so easily.

“Aye, but I’m no’ yer property,” she protested. “And I’m no’ going to let ye lock me away in some… ivory tower just because ye happen to be my husband!”

He rounded on her as he closed the door to the stable.

He did not look at her, could not, it seemed.

Some part of her wanted to see what he would do now that they were alone together, with all that anger coursing through his system.

Before, when he had led her from the feast after she had danced with Archie, it had been the closest she had come to feeling as though she was the one in control, and she could not stand to let it slip away again so easily.

“Tell me what this is really about,” she pleaded with him.

She knew that his fury was not just about her learning to ride, nor about a man helping her do so. There was something more to it, something deeper than he was willing to admit.

“I’ve told ye,” he shot back, not looking at her. “I’m no’ the kind to let another man lay hands on?—”

“No, Camron, I ken that it’s no’ about that,” she protested, practically demanding an answer from him. “That’s yer cousin. Do ye really think he would want to… do anything to cause trouble in yer marriage? Ye dinnae trust yer own kin?”

He didn’t reply. The silence hung there between them, weighty, larger than she could bear to make sense of.

She could feel it between them again, the tension that had hung in the air when he had pinned her to that wall outside the chambers, when she could have sworn that he was on the brink of kissing her.

“It’s no’ about whom I trust,” he muttered. “It’s about ye, Isla.”

“And what about me?” she demanded, tossing her hands in the air. “I’ve married ye, haven’t I? Isn’t that enough to?—”

But, before she could say another word, he had spun around to face her, pinning her to the hard wall of his body. Her head spun, the corners of her vision blurring at the sudden passion of his touch.

“Ye’re mine, Isla,” he implored, one hand coming to her chin to tilt her face up to look at him. “And I’ll never let ye forget it.”

He kissed her then, but, this time, it was not like the embrace they had shared at the altar. No, she could see now that whatever kiss he had planted on her there was downright restrained, at least in comparison.

His tongue invaded her mouth like a starved man, one hand moving to her back to pull her even closer, the other brushing across her cheek as though he was testing velvet for purity.

He let out a groan against her mouth, sating himself on her at last, and she lifted her hands to his arms without thinking, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt, the strength that was barely contained beneath the fabric.

For one dizzying heartbeat, she felt anger and desire blur until there was nothing at all left between them; until she could believe that he would take her, then and there, against the wall of the stable, where anyone could have walked in and caught them.

His power was almost all-consuming, the knowledge that he could do something so brazen with no fear thrilling in ways she could not explain.

Her hands laced through his hair, pulling him closer, parting her lips further, and deepening the kiss.

Distantly, through the fabric of her dress, she could feel the firmness of his manhood rising against her, a shockingly new sensation that lit a wick of excitement within her.

A wick that he was keen to test. His hand traveled down, snaking beneath her skirts with ease, and brushing along the inside of her thigh. She could tell at once what he was searching for, the proof of how much she wanted him and how impossible it was for her to deny her need.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, as his fingers slicked along the outside of her folds.

She let out something between a whine and a moan, a begging, desperate noise that just made him chuckle.

“Still trying tae pretend that you dinnae want me?” he asked, as his fingers found her entrance, grazing there for a moment.

Her hips bucked towards him, desperate to feel him inside of her, some relief, something. For a moment, his finger pressed against her, dipping inside her soaked honeypot, and then?—

And then, all at once, he pulled back, leaving her gasping for air, hands gripping at the phantom memory of his head.

A devious grin tagged on his lips at her disoriented state.

“What is it, wife? Cat got yer tongue?” His tone suggested he was only too amused, but the effect of his kiss was too potent still to incite any reaction from her.

He stood there before her for a moment longer, and then in a second he straightened up, his eyes back stony, and dragged the back of his hand along his mouth, like he was trying to dispose of the memory of her kiss as best he could.

“Camron—”

But before she could get a word out, he had turned and stormed out of the stable, leaving her standing there in complete shock at what had just transpired.

With shaking hands, she reached to touch her lips again, wondering if she had just imagined their encounter or if she could have come up with something as vivid and as passionate as that.

She clamped her legs together, trying to contain the rush of passion within her.

What was this? A punishment for her lust?

She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to…

She knew she couldn’t. She knew he was the only one who could stir such things in her. And she knew, above all else, that she wanted more. She wanted to see where that kind of desire would take them if she gave it the chance.